


A Desperate Mind

by ThinkoftheWindandSun



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood, Hurt No Comfort, Memory Loss, cameos by the rest of Blue Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6940009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkoftheWindandSun/pseuds/ThinkoftheWindandSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows there are things he can't remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Desperate Mind

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Please be aware there is blood, memory loss, crawling through glass, mentions of nosebleeds, mentions of scars. This is not a happy story, this is my interpretation of Caboose’s headspace. He is desperate and lonely and sad and hurt and angry.
> 
> Originally posted onto my tumblr: thinkofthewindandsun.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, owned the Red vs Blue show or its characters or original plot line. Nor do I have any ownership or involvement in the Halo video game from which it was devised. There is no monetary compensation for this work, or any other works I have posted.

Memories are not something he can say he is familiar with. Or, at least, not anymore. He knows there are things in his mind that are hidden away from him. Things that used to be there and aren’t anymore. Mostly he tries not to dwell on it.

Memory has always been his greatest weakness.

–

The first time he forgets, and then remembers again, he goes into a rage.

Storms through his room screaming and tearing everything to pieces. Tucker and Church burst in weapons at the ready, only to stop and stare in surprise at the utter destruction. He spins, lets out a sound like a thrashing wildcat, and throws something – he never knows what it is, Tucker never tells him – at them. It clips Tucker’s head, sending the other Blue reeling. Church catches him with a curse, takes one look at the next object Caboose is getting ready to throw, and bolts. Drags Tucker away with him. The thing hits the door and dents it. He lets out another wail.

Hours later he lays curled in the farthest corner beneath a layer of debris, murmuring names desperately through numb lips. Church glances in and watches him, but does not enter. He promises himself not to forget again, chants desperately to keep the memories in place.

It is never enough.

–

His mind is like a dark hallway littered with shards of glass.

Each one is a fragment of something important, but when he touches them and walks over their remains there is only that little bit. And he knows, he knows there is more. There is something just beyond his reach, still waiting in the dark. So he gets to his knees and he crawls, picking through the glass with bloodied hands, desperate and begging. Just let me find them. Please. Just let me remember. And pieces stab into his knees and shins and feet, and so many things connect the wrong way.

He’s still talking, mouth moving, but nothing is coming out right. Everyone is turning away, ignoring him. He crawls faster, desperate. Screams and digs frantically around trying to find that one thing. Just the one. Before everyone stops listening, before they turn away and mutter about how stupid he is. And sometimes he finds those bits that connect, and says exactly what he means, and he is happy. He waits for a response, any response, but. They’ve left.

He is alone.

–

Once, just once, he asks Washington why he screams at night.

The man looks at him. He is never sure what the other is searching for. Eventually he realizes he will get no answer, even as he recognizes the pain and the loss in grey eyes. Sees the way they flash and catch the light like his do when he can’t find the words. He manages a smile for the man, starts babbling crazy theories about why the other screams. His own eyes are soft and sad with understanding.

He does not ask again.

–

Sometimes he wakes up and there is blood on his face.

Dried under nose or still dripping. Takes like pepper in the back of his throat, makes breathing difficult and sniffly. He gets up, wanders to the semi-functional washroom, and cleans away the evidence. Leans against the sink and stares in the mirror with a cloth against his nose. When it stops he washes and stares at his face in the mirror. At the scars he barely remembers, but can never forget.

Goes back to sleep with his own screams in his ears.

–

Church asks him to remember.

Asks him to do something he has tried for years. He agrees because this is Church, and he cannot lose his best friend. He has already lost so much, he refuses to lose this bit. And for a while it is good. Memories stay clear in his mind because he spends hours sitting and reliving them. Over and over. Makes them so bright they blind him to the world around him.

But as time passes things start to slip. Shift. Slide. Things that were there are gone. That time Church yelled at him, furious, things blur. Everything is gone but those harsh words. Until he remembers only that his best friend abandoned him. That once there was happiness, but it is gone. Gone in place of a slow burning pain. There is no anger, no denial. Church left him and he is lonely and hurt and just wants to remember.

All he has left is a broken mind.

–

When the bullets are in the air and there is death all around him he is angry.

Yet, he is glad. Because in those moments there is nothing to look back on, nothing to remember. There is only blood and sweat and desperation. It is broken pieces fit together just snug enough to hold his weight. So he fights bullets and enemies and he fights his mind and memories. Until there is nothing but the ringing in his ears and the tears in his eyes and the burning rage in his veins.

Because when he is angry there is nothing to forget.

–

Memory has always been his greatest weakness. Or, at least, it is now. There was a time, he knows, that things were clearer. Perhaps not perfect, but a clear space to think. Things that fit together and let him sit in the dark and laugh and tell jokes. To make friends and defend them, to love and to hate. There were things that made him someone important, once upon a time.

But memories, he knows, are not something he is familiar with.


End file.
